But he wrote me a letter. It was in his finest cursive script,
in black ballpoint print. The shaky, almost child-like writing on
the plain envelope was marked "personal" in bold letters, and
underlined. He even apologised for his trembling hand, ascribing it
to a "slight stroke" some years earlier.

When I met Miller, just a few days before my letter arrived, he
had just been photographed with a group of St Kilda footballers,
past and present, to mark the beginning of the club's hall of fame.
A little nervous, I went up to him, crouched beside his wheelchair,
introduced myself and asked for an interview.

Miller, debonair in his black tuxedo and with his silver-grey
hair slicked back, greeted me with a smile but declined, saying, "I
am too old to think."

The then 83-year-old explained he did not often step out, but
was persuaded on this occasion by Saints Brownlow medallist Neil
Roberts.

As we took our seats, a steady stream of fans coiled a path
around the room towards Miller's table, where he sat with his wife
Marie. Miller took the time to acknowledge each admirer, signed
each article with great care and smiled dutifully for each photo.
With a twinkle in his pale blue eyes, he indulged those who wanted
to talk cricket equally as he did others too young to really know
whose autograph they had queued for.

Although conscious of not burdening him with yet another
request, I could not help asking for a photo later and was touched
when he posed with me. I went home thrilled to have come into
contact with the legend I had only ever read about.

Five days later, the letter arrived. He thanked me for the story
I wrote, in which one of his Invincibles and St Kilda teammates,
Sam Loxton, shared his memories of Miller. He also explained that
he had been a journalist for many years.

Miller also enclosed an article from London's Daily
Mail, featuring a few lines about his friendship with Princess
Margaret. The black and white photo accompanying the article, of
the pair walking side by side, was his favourite, he wrote.

A couple of weeks later, I was surprised and not a little
embarrassed to receive a phone call from Marie, asking could I
please return the clipping, as her husband had sent me his only
copy.

I often have been denied requests for interviews, but it was the
first time someone had been kind enough to write me a letter. And
it was also one of the rare times that a sporting legend's
reputation was not only matched, but exceeded, by reality.

The True Champions magazine in today's Age
includes an article on Keith Miller and was printed before his
death.